


You will hear my heart beating

by ImagineYourself



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, M/M, Slow Burn, copious swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineYourself/pseuds/ImagineYourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Wade weren't really <i>friends</i>. They just hung out and even though Peter had Wade's number, he never called him. Sometimes they just wound up on the same rooftop at night and Peter often assumed that Wade had really been looking for him, but he wasn't going to mention it. They ate tacos together every once in a while and one time Peter crashed at a safe house that Wade owned when they had done some business by the docks and Peter was too tired to make it home.<br/><br/>But they weren't <i>friends.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spring: when the lights go out

“No.”

Peter's voice had a finality to it that simply prompted Wade to begin his whining anew.

“But Spidey!” the merc drawled. “It'll be fun, I promise! Lots of laughs!”

Sighing, Peter continued spinning his web. It went across the span of his honorary room at the Avengers' tower and was the only thing in the room, besides the two occupants that is. Peter had an apartment now, he didn't want to spend a lot of time at the tower even with his own room. Especially not with the other Avengers and their prying eyes which wanted his identity and Peter was absolutely not willing to give that up just weeks after their partnership had been formed. Maybe in a few years.

Wade was still talking. “Just a little prank, okay? Some shaving cream on the hand or a string to trip on. Harmless stuff!”

“Tripping on a string is not exactly harmless,” Peter pointed out, testing out the comfort of his web. It could stand to be a little bigger but it sure was turning out beautifully. Definitely one of the best he'd made, though he'd spent hours on it for a reason.

“Killjoy,” Wade muttered. He sat cross legged underneath the web, plucking at a few strings and making Peter wince with annoyance.

It was the first of April and Wade had apparently decided that Spider-Man was his go to in order to get access to the tower. He wanted to pull pranks on the other guys, saying something about it being in the spirit of the holiday or some shit. Peter thought it was all nonsense and he wasn't exactly wrong. Honestly, he and Wade didn't see each other very often, maybe once a month when they crossed paths or teamed up for a patrol.

“You know,” Peter started, hanging over a few strings to look down at Wade, “you don't have to get my permission. I mean, I'll stop you if you try to actually set up any pranks around here, and don't think FRIDAY isn't going to notice, but I don't get why you're asking in the first place. You're an adult.”

“Aw, Spidey, that's so cute. I want your permission because I want you to like me!” Wade looked up at him with a grin that was visible through his mask. “You're my fave, web-head. I gotta get your approval for stuff!”

Peter frowned. “Well that's gonna be hard because I don't really approve of much that you do.”

Wade gasped and covered his heart with his hands. “Why ever not?”

Shaking his head, Peter moved around and resumed his calculations for web placement, saying distractedly, “You're a mercenary. You kill people. I'm really not about that life, Wilson.”

“Hey, hey,” Wade said defensively. “I haven't killed anyone in like a year.”

“Uh-huh. Maybe in this city, but I know you take jobs around the world still.”

“Nope! Even in outsourced jobs. I got a little bug that I wanna impress and that means I've been a good Deadpool for a while now!” Wade giggled to himself and Peter glanced at him with considerably less amusement than the older man had.

“Really.”

“Really, really.”

Peter stifled a laugh and didn't even dignify the reference with an answer. He swung to the floor from the web and held out a hand that Wade took with that grin still plastered on his face. “So I know this really great hot dog cart—”

“I'm starving, let's go!” Wade said before Peter had even finished. He stood, didn't let go of Peter's hand, and all but dragged the smaller man out the door.

Passing through the common room led them right by Tony, who looked up from his phone to frown at them. “Please tell me you didn't let him pull any pranks, Spidey,” Tony called out, looking annoyed simply by seeing Wade there.

Peter shook Wade's grip off and told Tony, “Of course, what do you take me for?” Tony looked relieved and his eyes went back to his phone.

“Have fun, you kids,” he said, the danger appearing to have passed.

Peter led Wade towards the elevator across the room and they stepped inside within a few short seconds. Just before the doors closed, Peter yelled over to Tony, “Wade didn't set anything up, but _I_ did. Have fun!”

He was laughing even as Tony shouted with indignation. Beside him, Wade was looking at him with his mouth dropped open.

“You're kidding, right?” he asked.

Grinning behind his mask, Peter nodded. “Yeah, but he doesn't know that. He'll be on his toes all day, I'm sure.”

Wade chuckled. “Oh, you naughty, naughty spider.”

Peter felt his cheeks get pink and he turned his face away, letting the last dregs of laughter leave his chest.

 

. . .

 

Peter and Wade weren't really _friends_. They just hung out and even though Peter had Wade's number, he never called him. Sometimes they just wound up on the same rooftop at night and Peter often assumed that Wade had really been looking for him, but he wasn't going to mention it. They ate tacos together every once in a while and one time Peter crashed at a safe house that Wade owned when they had done some business by the docks and Peter was too tired to make it home.

But they weren't _friends_. Just friend _ly_.

At least, that's what Peter was thinking. He'd known the merc for over a year since his bustling city welcomed the red suited weirdo into its midst. He liked the guy well enough, he supposed, despite the fact that he was a mercenary and killed people for a living most of the time. But Wade was funny. He made up for his brash actions with a charmingly lewd personality that Peter could easily find himself laughing with, never at.

All of that, added up, equated to Peter being very confused when Wade suggested they start doing weekly patrols together, protecting the city and each other's backs. Admittedly, Peter did consider that it would give him the opportunity to make sure Wade really wasn't killing anyone like he said he'd promised to do for Peter's approval rating with him to go up.

Why the hell not, Peter figured.

And that was how Peter found himself, the night before Easter, out on the streets with Wade at his side.

“I just don't see how you could possibly think _Point Break_ is not one of the greatest movies of all time,” Wade was saying, moving his hands as they walked.

“It's alright,” Peter conceded. “I mean the stunts are great, but that's about it. Besides, I've only seen the remake and the plot was definitely lacking.”

It took few seconds too long for Peter to realize that Wade had stopped walking. He turned around, cocking his head. Wade's arms were limp at his sides and he looked heartbroken.

“You've never seen the original?” he whispered. “Keanu Reeves, Patrick Swayze?”

Peter shrugged. “Nope. The blond guy in the remake is pretty hot, he's got the whole long hair and tattoo thing going, but Reeves and Swayze don't really strike me, you know?”

Wade gaped at him. “Oh let mine ears deceive me,” he said quietly. Peter huffed with laughter but Wade continued, “This cannot be!” Dramatically, he laid a hand to his forehead and mimed swooning. Then he actually fell to the ground.

Peter walked back to him and put his hands on his hips. “What?”

“How could I love such an uncultured being. Never have such treasonous words been said to me. Let me die here, Spidey, leave me to shrivel. I can't be with a man who hates on Swayze.”

With a chuckle, Peter toed at Wade's side, making the man twitch and giggle.

“That tickles,” Wade mumbled. Peter did it again. “No! Stop it!” Wade was outright laughing and Peter was laughing right with him, digging his toe in to make Wade wriggle around until the merc rolled away. “You can't make me forgive you with tickling!”

“And I care . . . why, exactly?”

“Spidey, baby, you gotta be kidding with me.” Wade got to his knees and then back to his feet, rubbing his side with exaggerated hurt. “C'mon, let's order some pizza and I can educate you on the beauty and grace of one Patrick Swayze.”

“I don't hate him! I think he was great in _Dirty Dancing_.”

“So you've at least seen _some_ of the classics.” They were walking again, back the way they came, and Peter assumed Wade was leading him towards one of his apartments. Who knew how many Wade had all over the city, the guy was a little obsessed with having a place close to wherever he might end up.

Peter rolled his eyes. “I've seen a lot of the 'classics', Wade. Honestly, though, it's just like you to have a guy like Swayze turn your crank.”

“Oh, baby, a lot of people turn my crank. Captain Rogers, for example. Oh the arms on him,” Wade sighed dreamily. “Even Romanov is pretty foxy.”

“I'd be too afraid of her killing me in bed to ever sleep with her,” Peter muttered jokingly.

Wade shuddered and said, “Yeah, me too. Then there's Bea Arthur of course, the most important woman in my life.” Peter laughed at that. “There's, ah, that one movie star, Ryan Reynolds. Ha! How meta of me. And you. And Johnny Storm! Though he looks suspiciously like Cap's twin . . . His sister is a catch, too.”

“Whoa, hang on, back up,” Peter interrupted, holding up his hands. “Me? You've never even seen me.”

“Don't need to,” Wade told him cheekily. “A butt like that got me hot for spider with or without the face.”

Peter's face felt warm. “Sure, whatever,” he muttered.

“You don't believe me? Baby boy I could write sonnets about that ass. If I could write sonnets. I don't really know actually, I've never tried, but there's nothing saying I explicitly _can't_. Unless it's like part of my mutant contract that I can only have so many super powers and writing sonnets is on the 'cannot have' list. One of these days I'll pick up a pen and think about that sweet behind . . .”

Peter tuned out most of Wade's speech, used to the guy carrying on for a while about nothing in particular. He was thinking furiously about the fact that Wade was legitimately saying he was attracted to Peter and wow that was a weird thought that Peter had never considered. He'd never had anyone interested in him since . . . Anyway, it was stupid to over think it, Peter tried to convince himself. Him and Deadpool? Match made in Heaven, surely.

He snorted and tuned back into Wade to hear him say, “. . . and then add some whipped cream. That's honestly the best way to eat pie. I'm an ice cream lover, myself, but only with apple pie. That shit is _good_.”

“I like ice cream,” Peter said.

It appeared that that made Wade realize he'd been having a one sided conversation for a while. “Yeah? Well, I think I might have some rocky road in the freezer at home. We can eat it after pizza.”

“Yeah, okay,” Peter told Wade, smiling to himself.

 

. . .

 

The warm days of May arrived with finals and Peter was stressed beyond belief. It was the end of his second semester at college and the previous semester's finals had nearly killed him but he was taking three more credits this time around. His aunt kept telling him he needed to take breaks, otherwise he was going to go crazy, but Peter didn't have time for breaks. He had three projects due, two ten page research papers, a book to read, and five exams to study for. All within the next week.

It was Saturday night and normally Peter would have already hit the streets, him and Wade searching for petty thieves and wanna be criminals. Instead he was in the corner of his bedroom, feet planted to the walls as he hung upside down and his gaze scanned over each line of the book he was supposed to be reading. But his eyes were starting to strain and head was starting to swim with all the blood in it.

The ringing of his phone was a welcome distraction.

“Yeah?” Peter answered, seeing the caller ID was the tower. He wondered for a brief second if there was trouble.

“Spidey?” Tony's voice asked, a little hesitantly. “How are you doing?”

Peter frowned deeply. “Uh, fine?”

“Oh. Good.”

“Why?” Peter asked when it seemed like Tony was not going to say anything else immediately. “Is something wrong? Did I miss a meeting?”

“No, no.” Tony chuckled. There was a voice in the background but it was too muffled for Peter to hear well. “Just checking up to make sure you're alive.”

“Why wouldn't I be?” Now Peter was just more confused. Tony was worried about him? Since when did that happen?

“I don't know, kid. I've got your boyfriend here and he insisted we call to make sure you're not dead. Said you were supposed to meet him.”

“Boyfriend?” Peter asked incredulously. “I don't have a boyfriend.”

At that, Tony really laughed. “Deadpool.”

“Oh. Oh!” Peter felt stupid and he laughed nervously. “Uh, yeah, tell him I'm fine, I'm just caught up in some work. I'll see him next week.”

He waited as the message was relayed and then there was shuffling and some choice words and suddenly Wade's voice was telling him, “Hi, baby boy, it's me! I was worried and I was waiting for you and I wanted to make sure you're okay! If you need any tacos or distraction you can call me. Okay, sweetums?”

Peter laughed. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Wade. And sorry I didn't tell you I wasn't coming. Been cooped up at home since yesterday.”

“Poor Spidey,” Wade cooed. “Just tell daddy if you need anything and I'm sure you'll do great, whatever you're working on.”

With a stupid grin, Peter said, “Please don't ever call yourself 'daddy' again. And thanks.”

“The tin man is making angry faces at me.”

“Give him back the phone. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay! Kiss, kiss.”

The line crackled and Peter heard Tony say, “I can't fucking believe—Spidey? I swear, you need to teach this lunatic some manners.”

“I'm not his mom,” Peter said with a groan. “Anyway, _don't_ give him my number. And he's not a lunatic, Stark.”

Tony _harrumphed_. “Sure. Whatever you say. Good luck on finals.” With that, Tony hung up and Peter was left rolling his eyes before tossing the device towards his bed.

If he had a dopey smile on his face as he returned to his book, well, at least nobody could see it.

 

. . .

 

Peter was done with finals and had already started his online summer studies. He should have been happy. Should have been sleeping better since his week of mostly all-nighters was finished. Should have felt relieved that he only had one class for summer and had a lot more free time to catch up on TV shows and swing around the city,

Instead, he just felt bad. The stress that had been eating his body didn't seem to want to leave him alone and Peter had no idea why he was so anxious to go out on patrol but he'd been shaking all day. Still, he donned his suit and left his apartment at exactly two minutes to seven, landing on the roof of his and Wade's meeting building right on time.

The merc was already there, feet hanging off the edge and a paper in one hand. He had several crayons beside him and was humming a tune that Peter didn't recognize.

“Hey, Wade,” Peter greeted, stepping over towards him. “Whatcha drawing?”

“Hey, bug boy.”

Peter flinched.

He didn't say it meanly, didn't give any inflection other than familiar greeting. He didn't even notice Peter's reaction because his attention was focused on his drawing and he continued, “It's me. On a Pegasus.”

Peter's fists slowly relaxed and his breathing was forcibly calmed. It was nothing. This was nothing. Just because he'd been called that before by Gwen—

“Normally I like doing unicorns, but I thought, hey, why not mix it up a little? Plus, flying? Sick as fuck,” Wade said like nothing was amiss.

Peter crouched next to him and looked over the drawing. It was very cartoonish and the proportions were all wrong. “I like flying. Looks great, man.” He had to try hard to make his voice come out normal.

Wade looked at him, obviously smiling. “Thanks, babe. You ready to blow this load?”

“As long as you don't actually pull out a grenade, yeah.” Peter forced a chuckle and it sounded okay to his own ears.

Wade stood and packed away his materials into the pouches on his belt. “Nah, don't worry. I didn't bring any grenades with me today.” Peter snorted and Wade waved a hand flippantly. “I'm kidding, Spidey. I brought two.”

Peter couldn't keep the grin off his face and he instantly relaxed. He didn't actually know if Wade was joking or not but it didn't really matter. He felt lighter, just being around the guy, and when in the world did that happen? They weren't friends still, surely.

They took off into the evening, sun descending to the horizon, and quickly came upon a grizzly looking dude running from a bike cop. Wade laughed at the situation and held back while Peter webbed the guy in the foot and took him to the ground where he landed with a grunt. There was a purse in his hands that definitely wasn't his and Wade picked it up to hand to the bike cop when he finally caught up.

“My favorite boys in blue are always on bikes,” Wade told the policeman with a grin.

“Uh. Thanks?”

“Don't mind him,” Peter interjected, landing beside them from where he'd been hanging on the side of a nearby building. The thief was beginning to crawl so Peter placed a foot on his back and held him in place. “He just likes messing around,” he told the cop, referring to Wade.

“Spidey, I'm serious! They've got little bells and helmets.” Wade mimed ringing a bell as the cop moved to the thief and handcuffed him.

“Thanks, Spider-Man,” the cop said.

Peter smiled. “Anytime. Come on, Deadpool.” They left the scene in capable hands and continued on their way, back on rooftops that they jumped over and between, Wade sometimes having to be pulled up by Peter if a roof was too high.

The sun was set by the time they ran into trouble again, this time in the form of a head on collision. They witnessed it happen, just too far away to stop it, but Peter dropped into the street in record time as one of the drivers exited his car looking dazed but mostly unhurt.

“Hey, call the station,” Peter shouted over to Wade who was making his way to the accident. He heard muffled screaming and turned to see the other driver banging on her window. Rushing over, Peter told her, “Calm down! I'll get you out, I promise!”

The woman, looking panicked, nodded slowly. She wrapped her arms around herself, deflated airbag hanging over her lap. Her door was partly crushed and it looked like the steering column was shoved inwards, trapping her body. Peter grappled with the door for a moment before pulling it completely off and tossing it next to him.

“My son,” the woman said quickly, turning to try and look over her shoulder but unable to move enough. Peter heard sniffling and glanced into the backseat to see a kid of maybe three rubbing his eyes with chubby little hands. His car seat was intact and he didn't look injured, just quietly crying.

“Don't worry,” Peter said. “I'm gonna get you out and then we'll get your son, okay? He's pretty safe back there.”

The woman nodded and Peter ripped the steering wheel from in front of her. Her legs were still trapped under where the dash had been pushed in and Peter carefully said, “I'm going to try and pull your legs out first, okay? Can you unbuckle your seatbelt?”

“Yeah.” She fumbled for a second but undid the belt as Peter wrapped his hands around her thigh. He used gentle force to tug her leg free, very aware of his own strength. Quickly, she was freed and he helped her to stand on the asphalt. Sirens were approaching as Peter moved to the backseat door.

He pulled it open easily and unbuckled the child, who was watching him with wide eyes, no longer crying. “Hey, kid,” Peter said softly. “Does anything hurt?”

“No. Where's Mommy?” The boy reached his hands out and Peter picked him up. He turned around to hand him to the woman and she held her son tightly to her body, kissing his head.

“Thank you,” she told Peter, looking at him with watery eyes.

Peter just fidgeted. “Yeah, uh, no problem. The police are here,” he said, looking around. “They'll want to take your statement. And make sure he gets checked out by an EMT, just in case.” He pointed to the kid, who was looking at him and waving.

“Bye, Spidey-Man,” the boy told him.

Peter grinned and swung himself by lamp post over to where Wade was waiting with his arms crossed. He landed with grace and watched as the police approached the woman as well as the man from the other car.

“How come you get to do all the fun hero work like touching pretty ladies and kissing babies?” Wade asked.

With a laugh, Peter answered, “Because I'm a hero and you're an ex-mercenary.”

“Oh. Right.” Wade sounded strangely disappointed. Then he relaxed his pose and beckoned for Peter to follow as he started walking. “Come on, Spidey. Let's grab some Mexican for dinner.”

They made their way towards one of Wade's favorite taco places quietly. Peter's head was back to feeling uneasy with the way Wade was suddenly not really talking.

“Hey, Wade?” Peter asked after a while, when they were only a couple of blocks from their destination.

“Yeah?”

“Are we friends?”

Wade stopped walking and turned to look at Peter. “Well, yeah,” he said, like it was obvious.

“Oh.” Peter looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. “Okay.”

“Do you . . . do you not wanna be friends?” Wade asked, hands wringing together.

Peter thought he looked nervous and tilted his head. “No, that's not it. I—uh—I don't really have any friends.”

Wade seemed to brighten. “Well, you got me!”

One side of Peter's mouth curled up. “Yeah, I guess I do. Come on, let's get those tacos. I'm hungry.”

 

. . .

 

“Hey, Spidey, why haven't you ever told me your name?”

Wade's question broke Peter's concentration and he nearly lost his balance from his careful perch atop a thin pipe. He was trying to fix a water line for an old woman who owned an Italian restaurant and had called out to him in the street. Of course, Peter wasn't a plumber, but he knew a thing or two and was always happy to help little old ladies. Especially when they promised food as payment.

“Uh, well, I've got a secret identity for a reason,” Peter hedged.

“Yeah, but you know my name. I don't even have your first name,” Wade whined.

“You're not exactly living a secret double life, though. Wade Wilson and Deadpool are pretty much synonymous.”

Wade visibly pouted. “C'mon sweet cheeks, it's just a name.”

Peter smiled and replied, “You seem to do well enough without it. I think you come up with a new nickname every day.”

“Nuh-uh! Only every other day,” Wade said cheerfully.

Peter added the last webbing touches to the pipeline and hopped back to the ground next to Wade. He patted the merc's shoulder. “Maybe someday I'll tell you. I've got someone to protect, though. I can't just go around saying my name.”

Wade frowned. “I'm not gonna tell anyone! Please, please, please!” He clasped his hands together like he was praying and Peter had to laugh.

He shook his head and headed for the back door into the kitchen of the restaurant. He was rewarded for his plumbing efforts with cheers all around and a gentle touch to his arm from the old lady that owned the place. She handed him a heavy paper bag and winked when she saw Wade try to peek inside and Peter had to slap his hand away from the bag's opening.

They were up on the roof of the next building over, several stories higher like they both liked, so they could watch the traffic as they ate. Two stromboli with extra homemade tomato sauce, a large portion of manicotti, and four large helpings of lasagna later had the boys laid out on their backs, the sun leaving just a faint pink halo at the distant horizon.

“I don't even wanna think about food anymore,” Peter groaned, rubbing his stomach where it bulged from overeating.

Wade laughed and then echoed the groan. “I'll be ready for a dinner like that again in a couple of hours.”

Snorting, Peter reached out a hand to smack Wade lightly on the arm. The merc made a pained whimper and whacked Peter back, giggling. They soon devolved into a playful slap fight, hands mostly waving at each other in the air and laughing like schoolkids. Wade landed a hit on Peter's shoulder and Peter got the side of Wade's head. Finally, they each separated, hands at the ready in case one would strike again. Wade gave one last half-hearted attempt and Peter reflexively shot a web, covering Wade's hand in the stuff.

They were both silent for a second. Then at the same time Peter said, “Sorry!” Wade started roaring with laughter. He easily tore the webbing off and rocked from side to side, clutching his stomach. Peter laughed too, an easy smile on his face.

Wade rolled over to face him, calming down, and his grin softened into a gentle curl of his lips. “Why don't you laugh more?” Wade asked quietly into the silence that had gathered between them.

Peter's smile dropped and he looked up at the night sky with his hands over his chest. “I don't know,” he said. “I don't have a lot to laugh about. I only really smile anymore when you're around.”

“Hey,” Wade started, pausing like he was struggling. “Sometimes I don't have much to laugh about either. We both got baggage, huh?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, guess so.”

Wade suddenly heaved himself to his feet. “C'mon, Spidey. Let's go swinging, see if we can catch any baddies tonight.”

He held out his hand and when Peter sat up, he took it. They stood, almost chest to chest, neither quite letting go of the other's hand. After a few prolonged seconds, Wade dropped his hand and turned slightly away.

“Peter.”

Wade looked at him sharply.

“My name's Peter.” Under his mask, Peter was smiling, his hand still outstretched.

Gripping his fingers again, Wade shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Petey-pie.”

Peter laughed, soft but carefree. “There you go with the nicknames.”

“It's a talent.” If Wade's mask could show him winking, Peter would have bet he'd have seen a wink just then.

He grinned and pulled Wade into him. “Let's go swinging.”

 

. . .

 

The middle of June took the Avengers to Texas for a mission.

Texas.

Peter spent the entirety of the trip grumbling about it. It was hot. It was gross. It was not a nice place. They left on a Thursday and it was Tuesday by the time they had gotten back, despite Cap's initial plan of a two night stay. Of course, as was usual, the mission went all kinds of wrong and they ended up taking forever plus a detour through New Mexico for a day before finally heading back to New York.

He was never as glad to breathe the dank city air from the landing pad as he was the evening of their return. Peter was invited to join the rest of the team for “after mission celebrations”, but he declined despite Falcon's protests, Natasha's prods, and Wanda's challenge to a drinking contest.

Truly, Peter was just sick of being around the team for so long that all he wanted to do was go home, watch a movie, and sleep for fourteen hours.

So Steve gave him a pat on the back, a “Good job, Spider-Man,” and sent him on his way.

Peter took the long way home, despite being tired out and low on webbing. He needed the tall buildings, sticky night air, and the freedom of swinging himself around for a while. He got to his building long after the sun had gone down and crawled through the window he always left unlocked that only a wall-climbing superhero could get in through it because of placement.

The first thing he noticed was light coming through his open bedroom door and Peter knew with absolute certainty that he hadn't left any lights on when he left for the mission.

Silently, Peter crept along the ceiling, head up and nerves ready for whoever might be waiting for him. He got to position, took a breath, and looked inside. At first, he didn't see anyone. Then, moving slightly to the left, he had a view of his bed and a red clad figure sitting on the edge of it with something in his hands.

Peter dropped to the floor quietly. “Wade?” he called out.

The merc jumped and stood quickly. “Pete! Shit, I—I didn't mean to break in. I mean, I did, but it was because you haven't been around and I was worried and shit—I didn't mean to intrude or anything and I'll leave if you want me to—”

“Wade, stop.” Peter held out his hands. “It's okay. I get it. I've been in Texas with the A-team. On a mission.”

“Oh.” Wade let out a huge sigh of relief. “Well, that is good to know, Petey. I went to the tower on Sunday but the AI said I wasn't allowed in and she wouldn't tell me anything.” Wade pouted, looking like a petulant child.

Peter almost laughed, but then he noticed the item in Wade's hands, now held at his side. “Is that—did you look at my stuff?” he asked.

Wade glanced at the picture frame in his hand. “Oh, fuck, Pete. It was on your desk. I know—I know. I shouldn't have looked.” He held the frame out and covered his eyes with his other hand. “I'm not looking anymore, promise.”

Gingerly taking it from Wade's outstretched hand, Peter looked at the photo and frowned. He didn't say anything. It was the same photo he'd had on his desk for the last year and a half: him and Gwen.

“Pete?” Wade was peeking through his fingers, but Peter barely looked at him.

“How did you find where I live, anyway?”

“I, well, I managed to wheedle your phone number from Stark's AI and when I called and you didn't answer I tracked it here. Sorry,” he added sheepishly.

Peter felt like he should have been mad, but he was a little too empty for that at the moment. He moved slowly towards his bed and sat down, still staring at the picture. With one hand, he started pulling his mask off.

“Whoa, hey, you're not gonna—?” Wade started.

After removing the mask and setting it aside, Peter looked at him with tired eyes. “You've already seen my face now.”

“Oh. Right.”

They were silent and Wade shifted from foot to foot before finally sitting down beside Peter.

“I'm not mad,” Peter finally said softly.

“You're not?” Wade asked skeptically.

Peter shrugged. “It's not like I have a lot to hide here.”

“What about her?”

“She's dead.”

“Oh.” Wade clasped his hands, fingers twitching.

Peter knew he wanted to ask more, but he wasn't sure yet if he was willing to say anything about it. It was almost the two year anniversary since her death and Peter was trying and failing not to count the days.

“I'm . . . sorry.”

The gentle tone of Wade's voice made Peter look at him with surprise.

“It looks like you were really close and you don't have to tell me what happened but I'm sorry she's dead.” Wade paused. “That came out a little insensitive, didn't it.”

“No.” Peter tried for a smile and he though he only got halfway there, Wade relaxed. “Thanks. Really.” He took a deep breath and continued, “It's almost two years now. I feel like I should be over it, but I'm not. I might never be.”

“Hey, that's okay.” Wade's hand touched his forearm and it was warm even through a glove and Peter's sleeve. “Everyone's got shit they can't forget. It gets a little better with time, though. Trust me, baby boy.”

The endearment made Peter's cheeks pink and he looked back at the picture for a moment before standing and replacing it at his desk where it belonged. “Thanks for checking up on me, Wade. I gotta get some sleep though, I'm beat.”

“Yeah, sure,” Wade said, not insincerely. He stood up and retreated towards the door. “I'll, uh, show myself out.”

Peter looked to him and watched as Wade turned around. “Wade.” He waited until the merc paused to glance over his shoulder before he said, “How about dinner tomorrow?”

“But it's not Saturday.”

Peter shook his head and felt an actual smile tug at his lips. “You're not excluded from seeing me other days of the week. We're friends. We can hang out whenever.”

Wade appeared to ponder that for a moment before smiling widely. “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow then. See ya, Spidey!” He gave a little wave and disappeared.

Peter heard the door close after him and went to sit on his bed, tugging off the top of his suit. He sighed, eyes catching on the picture frame on his desk, then his camera beside his computer.

He went to sleep with Wade on his mind for the first time.

 

. . .

 

Their patrol ended on a high note after stopping a bank robbery with some heavily armed baddies. There hadn't been any casualties and Peter was feeling proud, reclining on a roof with a cute little green house in the warm night air. Wade plopped down next to him with a bag of tacos.

Around a mouthful, Wade asked, “How ya feelin', Petey?”

Peter grabbed a taco for himself and took his mask off, more comfortable with revealing his face than the first time a couple of weeks before. “Not too shabby, Wilson. We did good tonight.” He glanced over to see Wade grinning, a few bits of cheese stuck to one lip. His mask was only rolled up partially, showing as much of his face as was necessary to eat and Peter was used to that. With a laugh, Peter reached over and flicked Wade's shoulder.

They ate their tacos in silence, Peter with a smile that was near impossible to get rid of. He had his camera beside him, having set it up outside the bank to get a few nice shots for Jameson. The sound of sirens hit them from far away, but when Wade perked up, Peter caught his arm.

“Wait,” he said quickly, gathering up his camera.

Wade looked back at him with some confusion. “What? There might be trouble, Spidey!”

“I know, I know.” Peter laughed a little nervously. “Can I take a picture of us? While we're here?”

It took a long moment for Wade to think about it, but he relaxed into Peter's side and said quietly, “Sure.”

Peter smiled and aimed the lens at himself, it had enough angle to get Wade in as well. The merc's mask was firmly back in place but when Peter turned his face a little to look at him, he could see Wade's smile through the fabric. The flash went off and Peter laughed as Wade immediately squealed and covered his masked eyes.

Then, leaving the camera in a safe place, Peter stood and helped Wade to his feet. “C'mon, let's go save some people,” he said.

“Right behind you, Pete.”

 

Later, after Peter had retrieved his camera and developed the photo, he stuck it up on the wall by his desk next to other photos of himself and the people he cared about; May and Ben, his parents, even one with Steve and Tony, though he was masked in that one. Peter glanced at his picture of Gwen and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the timeline seems a bit off and details don't add up, don't worry. It all makes sense in my mind but I didn't write every detail. Take this with a grain of salt. I mean, take everything spideypool with a grain of salt tbh.


	2. Summer: and the bombs come down

Aunt May had a Fourth of July bash with some of her friends from work and told Peter he ought to invite a friend or two. He didn't really have the heart to tell her that he didn't exactly have friends and when he said he was going out with people that generally meant he was doing stuff with Wade or the Avengers.

Peter almost considered asking Wanda to come then laughed at himself because she'd never agree to come. Besides, he still didn't want any of the crew to get to know his identity even though Tony appeared to have a good idea about it by that point. Of any of them, he supposed it wasn't a terrible thing if Tony knew.

So no, Peter didn't invite anyone but he showed up Saturday afternoon with a boxed cake from the store that May tutted at him for but accepted nonetheless. Peter actually had a pretty good time, getting a little tipsy on the beer May provided and enjoying talking about his studies at school with her friends. May certainly seemed happy, if a bit flustered with all the cooking she was doing, but Peter had no qualms helping her in the kitchen and she repeatedly thanked him.

It was nearing nighttime when Peter's phone rang with his hero theme and he excused himself to answer in the hallway after he saw Wade's name on his screen.

“Hey, Wade,” he greeted, already sounding apologetic.

“Petey! Whatcha up to baby boy? I thought we had patrol tonight.”

Peter ran a hand down his face. “Sorry, man, I'm at a—a thing at my aunt's. Independence Day and all that.”

“Oh, right, I never celebrate. Hey no harm no foul, kid. You have fun with your old lady.”

“Thanks, Wade. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. I should have called earlier.”

“Petey-pie,” Wade laughed, “don't worry about it.”

“Is that one of your friends?” May's voice nearby startled Peter and he only just kept himself from leaping to the ceiling. “Sorry!” May covered her mouth as she laughed. “I didn't mean to scare you. Tell your friend to come over!”

“Aunt May!” Peter whined, holding his hand over the mic of his phone. “The party's almost done anyway.”

May frowned at him. “Peter . . .” she said warningly.

“Hey, what's going on over there?” Wade asked into Peter's ear.

Peter waved a hand at May to shoo her off and she gave him stink eye before retreating. “Nothing!” Peter said, too quickly. “My aunt says you're welcome to come over if you want.”

“Uh.” Wade sounded a little nervous. “No thanks, kid. I don't think I'm the kind of guy she'd really want at her party. Tell her thanks, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Peter told him slowly. He was frowning. “Okay, well, I'll see you tomorrow then, right?”

“Absolutely!” Wade drawled. “Have a good night, Petey, and get home safe!”

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, I will. Thanks, Wade.” He hung up, looking at his phone for a long time before slipping it back to his pocket and returning to the party.

May gave him a knowing look from her place at the table and she pouted when Peter shook his head, making him laugh. The other attendees were deep in conversation and Peter tried to contribute but he just felt bad. He kind of wished Wade _had_ come to the party, it would have made the evening a lot more entertaining that was for sure.

He got home later with a text on his phone from Wade that read, _Let me know if you need a ride home, sweetums_ , with a bunch of kissy face emojis. Peter laughed aloud at it and texted back that he'd made a safe return and Wade should stop worrying about him. He fell asleep before he got any answer.

 

. . .

 

Wade heaved himself onto their meeting roof with obvious trouble and Peter was moving quickly to him before Wade even called, “A little help?”

“Jesus, Wade, what the hell happened?” Peter all but dragged Wade to sit up against an electrical box where the merc coughed wetly. He was bleeding everywhere and there was a decent sized hole in one shoulder while his other arm was completely missing and though it appeared to already be healing, it was disgustingly vomit worthy.

“Got into a fight—” Wade broke off to cough again and it didn't sound pretty at all. “Not my best decision. Fucking ninja.”

“How's the other guy?” Peter asked hesitantly, crouching in front of him.

Wade groaned and shifted around. “Well, he's not dead. But I'm pretty sure he's never gonna get out of a wheelchair.”

Peter let out a breath. “Shit.” He looked Wade over again, feeling nauseous. “Are you sure you should be here? Can I take you home or something so you're more comfortable?”

“I'm fine, I swear,” Wade mumbled, directly before slumping over unconscious.

With a sigh, Peter steeled his nerves and got to work. He managed to lift Wade over his shoulders, clutching onto his arm and a leg to keep him stable. Glad that he knew which of Wade's places was his main hub, Peter set off in the right direction, swinging by one hand when he could, but mostly just walking, trying not to jostle the merc as much as possible. He knew he couldn't exactly make matters worse, but he'd feel bad if Wade woke up with excess pain and draped around Peter's body.

They made it to the apartment after a while and Peter was happy to find out that Wade didn't lock his front door. Gingerly, Peter laid Wade on his couch, scrounging around the place for a towel—already bloody—and putting it under Wade's body so he wouldn't ruin the couch. Much.

He'd mostly stopped bleeding at that point and the hole in his shoulder was closed, his chopped off arm beginning to grow back with pale, weird looking flesh.

It was a bit horrifying to look at so Peter sat on the floor, Wade's head next to him, and turned the TV on. He flipped through channels until he found satisfactory X-Files reruns and settled in for a long night.

“Season three?” was the first thing Wade choked out as he woke up a couple of hours later.

Peter turned to him worriedly but almost laughed when Wade raised up his partially regrown arm to inspect. The bone was still forming and it looked more like a baby's arm than anything. Still gross. “Yeah, it's a marathon,” he finally said.

“Scully is the babiest of babes.”

“Only after season two, though.”

A wet laugh echoed in Peter's ear. “Yeah, true. It's too bad the show starts going downhill around season seven, season six is definitely the best.”

Peter felt himself smiling. “I've never watched past season seven, but I've missed a lot of episodes in between.”

“Then you've only gotta watch eight, nine doesn't exist in my book, it's shit.” With a loud groan, Wade sat up, swinging his legs down and resting heavily on the back of the couch.

On screen, Scully was explaining something medical and giving Mulder a signature Dana look. Wade's knee was right by Peter's head and Peter slowly leaned against it. Neither of them said anything.

They went half an hour before Wade asked, “Can you order some pizza? My stomach is about to shrivel and die.”

“That's literally impossible.”

A hand touched Peter's hair, his mask already having been taken off ages ago. Wade chuckled. “C'mon, Petey, help an injured man out.”

Peter rolled his eyes, reluctant to move, but did as he was asked. Wade's hand fell heavily away when Peter got up to grab a phone and the younger man couldn't deny he felt too light without it.

“Make 'em extra large!” Wade called over to him. “I could eat a whole damn cow.”

Peter's laugh filled the space and he didn't miss the way Wade smiled under his mask.

 

. . .

 

Peter fought like a madman. He was _pissed_.

“I thought robots were over after the whole Ultron fiasco,” Bucky's voice said over the comm in Peter's ear.

“You weren't even here for that!” Tony quipped.

“Yeah, but I know it happened.”

“Less talking, more fighting,” Wanda told them. Peter couldn't agree more.

Peter had started the fight, after being called in by Steve, feeling ready to take on anything up to and including giant robots—obviously a gift from Hammer that Tony was especially upset about. Unfortunately, after coming to the conclusion that his webs were somewhat ineffective, he became just above useless. He'd immediately asked Cap to call in Wade who, of course, would have _loved_ to fight giant robots.

Steve, of course, refused. “We don't need a mercenary on our team,” had been his argument. And when Peter tried to make the point of Wade actually being a pretty good guy and a huge help in battles, Rogers had simply brushed him off and told him to focus.

So, yeah, Peter was kind of a little bit incredibly frustrated.

“This would go a lot more smoothly with an extra set of hands!” he huffed, trying to get on top of one robot so he could rip its head off.

“He's a killer, web-head!” Tony replied.

Peter could hear the Iron Man suit's shooters going wild. “Like that's stopped several choice members of this team from joining?”

“Don't even go there,” Steve muttered darkly. Peter could have rolled his eyes but he couldn't afford to take his gaze off the battle for even a moment lest he potentially get brutally murdered.

“I'm not saying we invite him in, I'm just saying I need backup! I can barely take down one of these at a time and it doesn't look like the stream is ending any time soon.” Peter managed his last words just before leaping onto the side of a building, sticking there with just a hand to catch a breath or two before jumping back into action. “My webs don't work!”

“Then try something else! You're not useless!” Surprisingly, it was Natasha that said those words. Peter almost wanted to tell her off, but it was somewhat spirit lifting to hear her encouragement, however annoyed she might sound.

“If I die, it's on your hands,” Peter told them all.

Tony sighed and said, “It's on our hands anyway. Get to it!”

Peter shook his head and went back to action. He tore an arm off the robot he was working with, then shoved his hand inside the hole he'd created to pull out wiring. The thing spit sparks but went down and Peter grinned giddily to himself before attacking the next one.

It went on for another hour and by the time all the robots were dead, everyone was exhausted and Peter had long since been out of webbing in his shooters. He crawled along the sides of buildings to return to where the team was gathering and Tony was already making clean up plans for the streets. Sam gave Peter a high five and offered to fly him home.

Peter, politely, declined. He left the group after dropping his comm into Natasha's hand, ignoring the mirroring looks of Steve and Bucky and the odd expression on Vision's face. Peter hopped up the side of a building and headed for Wade's apartment.

He arrived to find an open window and crawled inside to the ceiling, hoping to spook Wade if the merc was at home. He heard the shower running and the bedroom door closed and wisely decided to just plop onto the couch to wait. He flipped on the TV, letting the soft sounds of some shitty Hallmark movie calm him as he slipped off his mask and took stock of his wounds.

Nothing was bad enough to warrant attention, luckily, but it would probably take a day or two until he was back at his best.

The shower stopped running and Peter could faintly hear Wade's voice as he sang something to himself. Peter was no longer paying any attention to the movie but was listening to Wade as he moved around, keeping track of his footsteps. He had the very brief notion that Wade was likely naked, seeing as he'd just gotten out of the shower, but Peter pushed that thought firmly out of his mind before it could take any sort of root.

Peter heard the bedroom door open but he didn't turn to look, eyes locked on the TV screen.

“Petey!” Wade exclaimed loudly before quickly shutting the bedroom door again, himself on the other side.

“Hey! Sorry, you were in the shower so I didn't wanna bother you,” Peter called over to him.

He heard frantic shuffling and then Wade yelled, “No, no, that's okay. I'm just . . . putting on clothes!”

Peter thought he sounded flustered and laughed lightly to himself. The door opened again and Wade finally came into the room wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt along with his Deadpool mask. Peter made a face at him. “Wade it's like ninety degrees, you don't have to cover up like that.”

Wade waved a hand and flopped to the couch beside him. “Nah, it's fine. I don't wanna subject you to the horrors that you'd see.”

“It's not horrible—”

“You haven't seen it.”

Peter frowned. “I've seen your hands and parts of your face and stuff. Honestly I think seeing your entire arm cut off took the cake for gross sights, your skin is nowhere near the top of that list.”

Wade hummed his dissent. “Yeah, okay, but you really don't wanna see this anyway.”

Peter pursed his lips, trying to think of how he could turn the argument around, but he eventually sighed and looked back at the movie. Honestly, he was just kind of done with fighting for the day.

“Rough day?” Wade asked after a bout of silence.

Peter sighed. “You could say that.”

“I haven't looked at the news yet today—”

“It was giant robots. Again.”

“What! Robots! And you didn't call me?” Wade pouted childishly.

Peter's fists clenched and unclenched. “I was going to but Cap wouldn't let me. I could barely do anything, my webs wouldn't stick to them and I could only try and kill one at a time but I was on my own and I couldn't even try to get a hold of you because everyone was yelling in my ear not to.” His voice was hot by the end of his speech and he was pointedly looking anywhere but Wade.

“They're stupid for so blatantly not trusting you,” Peter continued. “You're a good fighter and a good friend and I needed you but they—I'm just pissed off. Sorry,” he mumbled.

Wade was quiet for a long time. Then, he turned towards Peter and wrapped him in a headlock, knuckles rubbing into Peter's scalp. “Oh you cute fucking kid you!”

Peter was stuck somewhere between laughing and shouting and was trying to pull Wade's arms away while enjoying the sound of the man's laugh in his ear. “Wade! Let me go!”

“Nope! Not a chance, spider-babe. You're too damn cute for your own good.” Wade let him struggle for a few more moments, both of them laughing too hard to really fight, before Peter finally got away and punched lightly at Wade's arm. “The A-team can fuck right off, Petey,” Wade told him, still grinning. “You ever need me, I'll be there, whether they like it or not.”

Peter's lungs were trying to normalize his breathing but he smacked at Wade again and said, “Thanks.”

“And don't let the sticks up their butts keep me from fighting giant robots again!” Wade added, pointing a scarred finger.

Peter found himself laughing. “I won't.”

“Good.” They just looked at each other for a few seconds longer until Wade settled back into the couch. “Now let's put on a real movie, none of this 'family friendly' bullshit.”

“You got it,” Peter told him, already moving towards Wade's haphazardly stacked collection of films. If it was to hide the quickly forming blush on his cheeks and a silly smile, Wade didn't need to know.

 

. . .

 

August brought rain and a whole lot of it, too. Peter often found himself crouching in new places with cover, just to keep out of the wetness. It didn't deter him or Wade from their patrols, though, and Peter wanted to get in as much time as possible before the new semester started and he'd have to return to his studies.

It was morning when a severe thunderstorm warning went out and that should have alerted Peter to the start of a bad day, but he was too groggy when he woke up to take a hint.

He started the shower, stepped in, and the power immediately went out, leaving Peter to shout for mercy at the ceiling and wash his hair in complete darkness. Truly, if he wasn't part spider he wouldn't have survived.

Then, standing at the sink in just his boxers, moodily brushing his teeth, Peter heard the trickle of water and rushed out of the bathroom to discover he'd left his bedroom window open and rain was all but pouring in and creating a puddle on the floor.

“Oh, come on!” he whined, running for a towel and nearly slipping in the water, only his quick reflexes saving him from falling. He shut the window and managed to mop up the water fairly easily, leaving the towel on the floor as he sighed and returned to his morning routine.

There was a sharp knock on the front door but before Peter could move he heard it open and a voice call, “Honey, I'm home!”

Peter groaned and went out to see Wade standing in full gear in his living room. He frowned at the merc.

“Aw, Petey, why the long face? What's got your grumpy panties in a twist?”

Peter let out a sigh and dropped onto his couch. “I think fate is out to get me today.”

“I noticed the power's out. Half the city! Figured I'd drop by and see if you're up for a little recon today,” Wade explained, even though Peter hadn't asked. He was talking fast like he did when he was excited and Peter lifted his head slightly to look over him, mouth set in a pondering expression. Wade wasn't exactly looking at him.

“Yeah, okay. I've got nothing better to do.”

“Great! Go and, uh, put your suit on and we'll mosey on outta here!” He gestured with his thumbs and turned away like he was already going to leave. Weird.

“Uh, sure. Just gimme a minute,” Peter told him slowly. He got up and went to his bedroom, glancing at the merc to see Wade shifting around in place and looking like he was whispering to himself. When Peter tried to listen in, he couldn't make any sense of it, so he gave up. Quickly, he pulled on the pieces to his suit and slid his mask over his head as he went back out to meet Wade. “Alright, let's go.”

Wade looked at him and appeared relieved before saying, “I'll take the stairs, you take the window, meet on the roof.”

Peter nodded and Wade was gone. With a shake of his head, Peter crawled out his window, glad to find that the rain had lessened to just a light drizzle, and made sure to shut his window behind him before clambering up to the roof.

He heard Wade muttering to himself and listened carefully, catching bits of a conversation.

“. . . I've said it before, I'll say it again, no! What do you mean? I'm serious, it's a big, fat, stinky no. You really think he'd like us? That's stupid. You're stupid. No, you shut up!”

“Wade,” Peter called over, visibly startling the man.

“Oh, hey!” Wade squeaked.

“So, recon? Where to?” Peter prompted.

“Right! Recon. I'm, ah, scoping out a few places I've heard rumors about. We're heading to the docks.”

Wade led the way off the roof and Peter followed cautiously, more wary than he normally was because of the merc's stranger than usual behaviour.

“What kind of rumors?” Peter asked, swinging up the side of a building.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Drug wars, gang violence, plutonium bombs.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I'm a little skeptical about the info on that one but not enough to actually ignore it. Much as I love seeing a good explosion, I'm not really one for the destruction of a whole city, you know?” Wade sounded casual as he said it but Peter knew there was more to his words.

“Yeah,” he muttered distractedly.

 

. . .

 

School started again and Wade expressed his dissatisfaction with seeing Peter less until Peter told him he was allowed to drop by the apartment even when Peter was working on homework as long as he promised not to distract Peter too much.

It was fine, until it wasn't.

September brought course work that took up a lot of Peter's time and while he still made time for Saturday night patrols, they started getting cut short. They hadn't had a movie night or eaten take-out together for three weeks by the time Wade brought it up as he held onto Peter's back and they were swinging towards the docks.

“We haven't hung out in weeks, Petey!” Wade was whining, clutching to Peter's body. “I need some quality time with my spider-babe!”

“Sorry, Wade,” Peter muttered. “I just don't have a lot of free time right now. This semester is really kicking my ass.”

“Why do you gotta be such a good student, Petey-pie?”

Peter laughed. “Would you rather I be a shitty student?”

“Nah, smart Peter is the best Peter. You gotta get your learning days in before you get old and gray like me and it's too late for school.”

“You are _not_ old and gray,” Peter told him, amused.

They landed between a couple of warehouses and Peter dropped Wade unceremoniously. The merc grunted as he landed on his ass but good-naturedly held a hand out for Peter to take and help him up.

“I might be! You can't see past my mask.” Wade laughed and led the way through their cover of darkness. They were doing more recon on the bomb tip. Peter had considered asking Tony to try and track if there was anything in the area that came up suspiciously on scans, but he wanted to trust Wade to do what he did best and find out if there was actually any warrant for their worry.

“Yeah, but I know that you're not _old_.” Peter could feel himself flushing and was glad his mask hid his cheeks. He would be mortified if Wade could see his expression.

“True, true, Petey my darling. I'm still in my prime and will likely be like this forever unless someone finds a way to kill an immortal man!”

Peter frowned. “You mean you could actually live forever? You couldn't die of old age?”

“Of course not. My cells are constantly splitting and dying and renewing themselves. I can't get sick, can't die, can't get old.”

“That . . . sucks,” Peter told him quietly. Wade looked over his shoulder and his mask made it seem like he was grinning but Peter could be wrong. “I hear something,” Peter hissed. Sure enough, he could pick up a few voices coming from the building next to them.

“How many?”

“Three, I think.”

“Ah, that's nothing. Look, there's a window up there, see if you can get an eyeful.” Wade pointed above their heads and Peter jumped to the wall, making his way towards the dirty glass and peeking inside.

There were a few lights on which illuminated several large boats, covered in tarps. Nothing appeared overly out of place but the three voices Peter had heard were gathered under one light. Two of them exchanged something and it looked like a drug deal. Still illegal, but not a bomb.

“I think it's just drugs,” Peter whispered to Wade, glancing down to see the merc trying to climb up the wall and failing. He stopped when he noticed Peter looking and shrugged with a slight laugh.

“Should we storm them?” Wade asked softly.

Peter looked back through the window and the two shook hands. Then one of them pulled a gun and shot the third wheel in the chest. He aimed the gun at the other man but Peter was already moving. He punched through the window and shot a web at the gunman, pulling him back sharply.

Jumping through the broken window, Peter webbed the guy to the wall and turned to the other, still living one. Peter webbed a foot so the other one was on the ground and quickly ran to him so he could gather his hands and stick them together.

“Now,” Peter said loudly, hands on his hips. “Which one of you wants to tell me what's going on here?”

He glanced at the dead man, felt a little sick, and looked at the two webbed ones. Just then, Wade ran through a door in the far wall, gun in hand and shout on his lips. He quieted and dropped his shoulders when he realized Peter had already taken care of the situation.

“Aw, Spidey, I always miss out on the good stuff,” Wade pouted.

“You can help me interrogate,” Peter said, not without some amusement. He toed at the guy on the ground in front of him. “Talk.”

“I—I don't know man! I was just supposed to hand over the coke but he—he fucking shot my partner!” the man spluttered. He tossed his head to throw a glare at the gun guy, who just laughed.

“Boss wanted the coke and his money back,” the guy on the wall said, laughing nastily. “Ain't worth your price for this shit.”

Peter shook his head and held out a hand behind him. “Phone?” he called over to Wade. He caught the device without looking and called the police, letting them know the location. He tossed the phone back, webbed the two mooks a little better just to be safe, and waved for Wade to follow him out.

“That didn't take long,” Wade muttered a little sullenly.

Peter just grinned and asked, “Wanna get pizza? There's a nice little place over on this side.”

Wade gasped and then squealed. “Pizza sounds perfect, baby boy!”

With a roll of his eyes, Peter started heading in the right direction, Wade hot on his heels.


	3. Fall: when the morning comes

Peter was humming to himself as he rested in his web, one of Stark's tablets in his hands. He wouldn't say he was mooching off the tower's wi-fi to do his homework, but he was definitely mooching to do his homework. His router at his apartment was having problems and Peter had an assignment due by midnight that needed his full attention.

He had his gloves off and his mask lay on the floor beside them. His feet stuck to the ceiling but the web was close to the top of the room so it was the perfect height for his legs to stretch out and his back rest against the webbing.

A knock at the door startled him just seconds before Tony walked in, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. “Peter, we should talk,” he said.

It instantly got Peter to sit up and peer at him, eyes narrowed. “I swear, I'm not looking at porn, I'm doing my organic chem homework.”

Tony sighed. “That's not it. Look, kid, could you just come down here? It feels weird talking to a web.”

Peter made a face but dropped to the floor, leaving the tablet safe up in the web, just in case Tony wanted it back. “What's up?”

The way Tony's eyes were looking hard and away from him was a giveaway to Peter that this was by no means a friendly conversation. “The team has . . . concerns. About you.”

“What kind of concerns? I'm making time for meetings and stuff, even with school. You're not kicking me out, right? I don't even live here.”

“Peter, calm down,” Tony said, holding out his hands and almost laughing. “We're not kicking you out and you still have your web-room-thing. It's about Deadpool.”

Peter's face instantly fell into neutral.

“We don't think it's a very good idea for you to be teaming up with a guy like that.”

“Is 'we' _you_ or the rest of the team, too?” Peter asked stonily.

“It's all of us. Well, maybe not Wanda but she doesn't know him and if she did she'd be with the rest of us, I'm sure.” Tony took a breath. “We just don't think he's a good influence on a nice kid like you.”

Peter fought the urge to grit his teeth and instead, calmly, he said, “He's not a bad influence. If anyone is influencing anyone, it's me on him. He hasn't killed anyone in over a year and half now. He's not a bad person, never was.”

Tony looked ready to argue. “I can appreciate you wanting to keep an eye on him by teaming up but—”

Peter gave him a disgusted look. “I'm not keeping an eye on him! We do patrols together because we make a good team.”

“And you do more than patrols, though, don't you?”

“What are you trying to insinuate?” Peter's cool was starting to fray rapidly at the edges.

“Kid, look, I know you don't have any friends and he probably seems like a good guy to hang out with and all but—” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It's just not a good idea to be friends with someone like Deadpool.”

Peter bristled. “How _dare_ you,” he hissed. “You're not my father, hell you're not even my friend. You can't just tell people not to be friends with someone because _you_ don't like them!”

“Peter, I'm trying to look out for your safety! He's dangerous and he should be behind bars for all the shit he's done.” Tony's gaze became harsh. “You don't know what he's capable of.”

“I'm perfectly aware of what he's capable of. I've seen him in action. I've seen the reports from his past.”

“What if he hurts you, huh? He's lost his damn mind because of the shit he's been through and I wouldn't wish that on anyone but that doesn't mean he might not attack _you_ one of these days.”

“He wouldn't—you know what, fuck you Stark.” Peter turned and snatched up his gloves and mask, grabbing the tablet while he was at it before stalking past Tony. The other man didn't say anything but when Peter had taken two steps away he stopped, glaring back over his shoulder. “You don't know me and you don't know Wade. Don't pretend like you do.”

Peter left him without another word and retreated to the common room only for long enough to finish his assignment before heading up to the landing pad. Peter took a deep breath, the air turning cool as night fell. The city was lit up beneath him and the last sliver of sunlight was fading.

Peter jumped.

Air rushed past his face and he finally let out a breath of relief. Halfway down, he tossed out a web and caught himself to swing around the side of the tower, heading between buildings and across town.

He made it to Wade's apartment as the stars were becoming visible and glanced through the window, not immediately seeing Wade himself. He tapped on the glass and waited a few moments, but there was no answer.

Huffing to himself, Peter left, swinging away through the city. He tried the rooftop he and Wade usually met on first and was disappointed when he didn't find the merc there. It didn't surprise him, though, it was a Friday night, not one of their usual meeting nights. So Peter swung home and picked up his phone from its place on his desk.

No messages awaited him so he texted Wade, _Busy?_

He sat on his bed, twiddling his thumbs, until his phone buzzed a few minutes later.

_Miss me?_

Peter laughed and typed back, _Don't flatter yourself. Up for tacos and a movie?_

_Always up for you sweet cheeks_.

Rolling his eyes, Peter texted, _My place, an hour. You bring the tacos I'll pick a movie._

_It's a date ;)_

Flopping back onto his bed, Peter let out a sigh of barely restrained relief. Just knowing Wade would be around soon gave him a sense of comfort. He was definitely ready to just curl up on the couch and chill out for the rest of the night. Tony's attempts to argue with him had really rattled his chains. Peter changed out of his suit and into pajamas, scrolling through Netflix (and thank goodness his internet was back) to try and find a good movie.

He left the front door unlocked and when Wade arrived he simply walked in, announcing his entry by calling, “I hope you're hungry! I brought lots of tacos! The lady at the taco place was really nice and offered me a discount. I think she was probably scared though, considering I've got two katanas strapped to my back. Anyway, what's new, buckaroo? What's up, buttercup? How's it hanging . . . uh . . . spider-babe?”

Peter laughed as he took the bag of food from Wade's hands. “I kind of can't believe you just said that.”

“I'm normally a lot smoother, baby boy. I'm just a little flustered,” Wade told him, chuckling.

“Flustered?” Peter asked teasingly. He sat on the couch, already pulling out a taco.

“Oh, you know.” Wade stepped lightly over and sat beside him, unhooking his katanas and setting them against the wall beside the couch. “Cute boy asks me to come over for some Netflix and chill? My mind goes places!”

Peter snickered and smacked his arm playfully. “Sure. Like you'd actually get flustered over something like that.”

Wade laughed but it sounded a little forced. “What are we watching?”

“I've narrowed it down to _Blade 2_ or _Hot Fuzz_ , depending on what kind of mood you're in.”

“Oh, _Hot Fuzz_ is always a good time. That one, I pick that one!”

Peter started it up on his laptop, hung before them from the ceiling as a gross misuse of his webshooters. But, seeing as he didn't have a TV, it was a good makeshift substitution. They ate their tacos, had some good laughs, but about an hour in the playback started buffering and wouldn't stop.

“I was having problems with this earlier,” Peter muttered, frustrated. Nothing worked to fix the problem so he just let it sit, hoping the router would fix itself shortly. He leaned into the couch, arms crossed, and let out a sigh.

The tacos were long gone and Wade was leaning almost into Peter's space, his feet kicked up along his side of the couch. “Hey, Petey?”

“Yeah?”

“Why'd you call me over?”

Peter looked at him with an odd expression. “Because I wanted to see you?”

“I mean,” Wade clarified, a little slowly, “why'd you wanna see me? Something wrong?”

His gaze dropped to the floor and Peter let out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he conceded quietly. It wouldn't do him any good to lie to Wade and try to forget what Tony had said.

Honestly, Peter was frustrated with Tony but he was also frustrated with himself for letting the bastard get under his skin and make him feel any sort of doubt towards Wade, no matter how minor.

“What happened?” Wade's question was gentle and almost surprised Peter, who had been thinking too hard.

“Stark and I were . . . arguing, earlier.”

“Arguing? About what?”

Peter rubbed at his face and looked harder at the floorboards, if it were possible. “You,” he almost whispered.

Wade was quiet until he spluttered with a strange laugh. “Me? Why the fuck?”

Glancing at him, Peter saw he didn't look quite as amused as he seemed to be trying to appear. “He was trying to warn me off of you,” Peter told him. “Saying all this shit about how you're a bad person and he respects me for 'keeping an eye on you' which some grade A bullshit. I know what you've done, but I know who you are, and you're nothing like he was trying to paint you to be. He was being an idiot. Saying stuff and—and I know you'd never—” Peter broke off, pursing his lips to keep himself from saying anything else.

“He thinks I'm gonna hurt you, doesn't he. They all do.”

Wade's voice was thick but it wasn't a question. Peter's gaze found him with his chin to his chest, looking at his gloved hands.

“You'd never hurt me. Right?” Peter asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“Of course not.” Wade laughed and it was so heartbreakingly mirthless that all Peter wanted to do was reach out and touch him. “I'd saw my own neck before I'd let anything happen to you, Petey.”

Peter was a little taken aback, not by the graphics of that notion but of the way it spoke devotion and trust and Peter felt like a fucking idiot. “Wade. I didn't—I know that. I know you'd never. We're . . .”

“Friends?” Wade supplied.

“Yeah.” Neither of them mentioned the disappointment in both of their voices. “Wade, I—”

“I should go,” Wade said, cutting him off. He stood and gathered his weapons, already heading for the door.

Peter was standing, too, as he said, “Don't.”

But Wade just shook his head and left without another word. Peter felt his heart clench and he frowned at the closed door. He stood there, unsure of what to do or where to go, for a long time. Finally, the movie started playing again, but Peter was no longer in the mood. He shut it off and immediately went to lay on his bed, eyes wide as they stared at the wall.

 

. . .

 

The next day he got a message from Wade that said he was taking a job out of country and wouldn't be back for a few weeks. Peter wished him luck, trying not to feel too put out and failing.

He avoided the Avengers' tower and didn't take any of their calls.

 

. . .

 

Wade returned in October and Peter only knew because he was out on patrol when he noticed a figure in red walking the streets of Queens. Peter followed him a couple of blocks, not knowing where Wade was headed, but he finally dropped down in front of him, startling him from where he was looking at the ground as he walked.

“Hey, Wade.”

“What the—Spidey! Hey, uh, kid. How's it been hanging?”

Peter frowned at him behind his mask. “Alright. I figured you'd call when you were back in the States.”

“Yeah, about that, I had to ditch my old phone. Haven't picked up a new one yet.” Wade sounded evasive and Peter was just confused.

“No change for a payphone?” he asked jokingly. Wade flinched. “No worries, man. I mean, I was worried, but no harm done. Glad to see you alive and well. How did the job go?”

Wade glanced around like he was looking for a way out and Peter just felt more concerned. “Fine. Listen, Spidey, I've got this _thing_ to get to. Already running late. We'll catch up later, yeah?”

“Sure, okay. I'll catch you later, I guess. Saturday night patrol back on?”

“Sure, sure, whatever you want.” Wade made a shooing motion and started heading back the way he'd come, away from Peter. “We'll do the usual!” he called over his shoulder.

Uncertainty clouding Peter's every sense, including the spider one, Peter watched him go. “Weird,” he muttered to himself. With a deep breath, he swung into an alley and up a wall, supposing he ought to at least finish his patrol.

Wade was on his mind the entire rest of the night, and Peter kept playing their conversation over and over, trying to figure out if he said something wrong. Wade had seemed spooked. Over what, Peter had no idea.

As soon as he'd seen the merc he'd hoped that he could convince him to get dinner or something at least. It had been three weeks since the last time they had seen each other. And, sure, their parting had been less than ideal, but Peter didn't really know why. He'd thought about it every day for the past weeks and continued to be unable to come up with a reason for why things had suddenly gone so south.

Was Wade upset with him? Had Peter done something wrong? Was their friendship straining and falling apart already?

Saturday was two days away. Maybe Peter could get some answers then.

 

. . .

 

Peter waited for an hour for Wade to show. He was almost tempted to go looking when Wade didn't show on time, but figured he'd play his cards safe and just wait. When Wade did finally appear, he was quiet and barely said more than a greeting.

Peter was reluctant to even go out on patrol but Wade headed out without him and Peter had to catch up, uncomfortable in the silence between them.

They didn't run into trouble. There was absolutely nothing happening and nothing to distract them from this tension that surrounded the two of them, walking side by side. Peter almost wanted to swing overhead, just to get away from it, but he thought it might be taken the wrong way and so he stuck to Wade.

It was getting late, the moon high in the sky, and they had been quiet for hours when Peter spoke.

“Is there something you're not telling me?” he asked, not unkindly.

Wade actually jumped at the sound of his voice and then looked pointedly at the sidewalk under his feet. “No. Why would you think that?”

Peter pushed away the urge to hit him. “You've literally said one thing to me all night and it's so unlike you. Normally I can barely get a word in. What's wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong! Jeez, can't a man just have some peace and quiet?”

Frustration itched at Peter from the defensive tone Wade was using. He said lowly, “You've never liked peace and quiet.”

“Maybe I do now!” Wade nearly shouted. He'd stopped walking and his hands were fists, chest heaving more than usual.

“Just talk to me, Wade. I feel like you're mad at me. Did I do something wrong?” Peter asked it more pleadingly than he had intended, but it had been weighing so heavily on his mind that he was desperate for an answer. Any answer. He just needed to know. “I know I said some things I shouldn't have before you left, but I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. I just want to talk to you.”

Wade's shoulders were shaking ever so slightly. “Stark's right about me.”

“What?” Peter was alarmed at the dark words.

“He's right about me. What he told you. I'm not a good guy, I never have been. I'm no hero and I never will be.” He laughed and the sound jarred Peter's nerves. “I'm fucking crazy, Peter. I'm not stable and I'm certainly not safe. You're not safe around me, don't you get it?”

“I—Wade, what are you saying? You—”

“I'm not kidding with you, kid! I'm fucking dangerous. You shouldn't be around me anymore.”

“Wade . . . I'm not going anywhere. You're not dangerous to me. I'm not scared of you.”

“You should be.” Wade unsheathed one of his swords and Peter's hands shot up defensively though he purposefully did not take a step back. “You should be terrified of me. I've killed people, Peter, more than you know.”

“That doesn't make me scared.” Peter was proud that his voice didn't shake but his heart was beating too fast in his chest and he was trembling with it. “You can't scare me off like this, Wade. We've known each other for a while, now, and I'm not just going to stop—”

The tip of Wade's sword was suddenly pressed against the side of Peter's neck. It was a testament to Peter's strength of will to not smack the weapon away or jump back. His spider sense was screaming at him, this man who had never even set it off before suddenly making it go haywire in his head.

“Wade—” Peter whispered.

“Don't come find me again. Don't try and contact me. We're not friends.” Wade's voice was cold and hard and it was the sort of tone Peter had only ever heard on bad guys they were fighting. He'd never dreamed it would be a voice Wade might use on him. “Get out of here,” the merc commanded. The press of his blade to Peter's neck was deadly in its threat.

Peter took a step back, slowly. “Wade,” he tried again.

“Don't say _anything_ ,” Wade hissed. “Leave.”

Fear.

That was what Peter was feeling. His heartbeat was wild and his limbs shaky. He backed away and jumped, attaching a web to the building next to them so he could get away. He glanced back just once to see Wade drop his weapon, looking defeated.

Peter cried on his bed when he got home, determinedly not looking at the picture of Wade on his wall.

 

. . .

 

November came and Peter had stopped doing patrols. He hadn't even looked at his suit in weeks. He still wasn't picking up calls from the tower and he'd taken to not answering May's calls either. She was worried, he could tell by her messages, but he didn't call her back.

Peter still went to class, as much as he could make himself, and he did all of his homework. He left his apartment only when he needed to.

The news asked where Spider-Man was. Peter couldn't give them an answer.

He couldn't accept it. He couldn't believe that Wade was out of his life so suddenly and without warning. It was different when he was away, but knowing he was still in the city made Peter's body seize up every time he thought about going outside. He wanted to see him, had to stop himself more than a few times from just going to Wade's apartment and confronting him.

He knew it wouldn't do any good.

 

. . .

 

Thanksgiving brought Peter to his Aunt's house where she made a feast for two and set him at the table with a bottle of wine and more food than he'd eat in a whole day. He tried to put on a smile, but it was difficult, and May saw right through him. She always did.

“What's been troubling you, honey?” she asked as they cleaned up. Her hands were deep in soapy water and Peter held a damp towel, drying as she handed him each clean item.

Peter shrugged. “Been busy,” he lied.

“Sure, busy. You're taking five classes this semester, I'm sure you don't get as much free time as you'd like.”

“Yeah.”

May blew hair out of her face and looked at him scathingly. “I mean this in the best way, Peter, but you're a terrible liar. Tell me what's really on your mind.”

Giving her a frown, Peter's eyes dropped. “It's nothing. Shouldn't even be bothering me anymore.”

“Just because it shouldn't doesn't mean it isn't. It's enough that you've barely been doing anything for weeks, not even calling me back!”

“I'm sorry, Aunt May,” Peter told her miserably.

She took the towel from his hands and dried her own before patting him on the shoulder. “I'm not mad. Come on, sit down.” She ushered him to the table and poured another glass of wine for each of them, raising her brows until Peter sipped at it. “Now, tell me everything.”

Peter was silent for a good two minutes. Then, he started quietly speaking. “I don't really have any friends. Even in class, I don't talk to people. And I'm okay with that, don't get me wrong. But there's . . . this guy, I was getting to be pretty good friends with.”

“The fellow that didn't come to Fourth of July?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. We kind of had a fight a while ago and he had to go on this business trip after. But when he came back last month, I thought we were gonna be fine, you know? It wasn't really a fight, more—ah—I don't know how to explain it. But he gets back and doesn't even let me know he's in town. I saw him around and tried to talk to him, but he just brushed me off. I said I was sorry for what happened before the trip, but I guess he didn't care. He just told me he's not good for me and I shouldn't be friends with him anymore.”

Peter's fist clenched against the top of the table. “I don't get it. Everything was fine, we were fine, and then suddenly we weren't. He won't talk to me. Got a new phone so I can't even call him. I don't know what went wrong.”

May reached across the table and rested her hands over his. She smiled softly and said, “I think you should find this boy and try to talk to him again. Maybe he's been having some troubles and just didn't want you to get involved. I don't know who he is, but the way you talk about him . . . It takes a lot for a person who cares to stop caring. It's possible he never really cared about you, but I don't think that's true.”

“I don't know, May . . .” Peter whispered.

“Let me ask you this, do you love him?”

Peter's startled eyes met her gentle gaze. “I—I don't know. I never thought about it?”

May just nodded. “Well, think about it. If you do, then don't let him go. Whether it's friendship or something else, you need someone in your life besides me.” Her smile was sweet and Peter felt himself nodding.

“Yeah. You're always right, Aunt May.”

She patted his hands and stood from the table. “Let's finish cleaning up and then we'll watch some TV, okay? They've already started playing Christmas movies, maybe something decent is on tonight.”

Peter groaned but he was smiling. “It's too early for Christmas!”

“Peter Benjamin Parker, it is never too early for Christmas.” May laughed as she returned to the sink and Peter trudged after her.


	4. Winter: and the war is done

Peter always thought that the end of the year brought closure to the year's events. December was nearing its end and Peter hadn't yet talked to Wade though May's advice had been heavy on his mind for weeks.

Honestly, Peter was scared.

He was scared that Wade would be gone, his apartment no longer his home. He was scared that Wade would refuse to look at him again let alone talk to him. He was scared that if he did get Wade to talk, they'd just have a repeat of their parting, weapons out and threats in the air.

Peter was scared that May was right. He needed someone in his life and he hadn't realized it until Wade was already there, filling that hole. He was empty again and it _hurt_.

But the scariest thing of all was that Peter still didn't know how he felt. How could he answer May's question if he barely knew what love was supposed to feel like anymore? Ever since Gwen, Peter hadn't even considered romance. He hadn't touched or kissed another person since she'd been lying dead in his arms. He couldn't bring himself to love another person since he'd felt her broken neck in his hands.

Wade couldn't die, his mind kept supplying. He knew that, but it didn't stop him from disliking the idea of Wade getting hurt because of him. It was stupid, he realized, considering the man led a life that arguably even more dangerous than Peter's and yet he'd survived to hell and back and wasn't stopping anytime soon.

Peter didn't know what he wanted.

 

. . .

 

Pounding on his door woke Peter from a deep slumber. It was dark outside and he could see snowflakes passing by the window. It was New Year's Eve, Peter knew by the way his phone read oh four hundred when he checked it. He also had seventeen missed calls.

The pounding continued and he groggily rolled out of bed, intent on sending away whoever was at the door.

“Peter! Open the damn door before I break it!”

The voice yelling sounded a bit like Tony's but that didn't make sense because Tony didn't know where he lived. He knew Peter's name. Peter rubbed his eyes and sighed.

“I'm coming! Don't break my fucking door!” he called, moving a little faster towards the front. He bet his neighbors were probably going to have some choice complaints about him but Peter couldn't really care before sunrise.

He opened the door only to have Tony barge right in, fully suited and feet clanking against the floor. “Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded.

Peter glared at him. “You came to my apartment in the middle of the night to ask me that?”

Tony scoffed and the face of his helmet slid up to reveal eyes surrounded in dark circles. “No. Look. You haven't answered your phone in fucking ages but right now we need your stupid webs so are you gonna help or not?”

That got Peter's attention and he straightened, more alert. “What's happening?”

“There's a fucking bomb in the city! It's apparently been by the docks deep underground and the crew that made it is trying to get it up so they can blow it the fuck up but we can't get to them.”

Peter's mouth hung open. “Oh shit. Oh shit! It _was_ good info, what the—”

“You knew about this?” Tony asked incredulously.

Peter was already moving towards his bedroom to grab his suit. He called over his shoulder, “Not really. Wade was tipped off about it months ago, but we checked it out several times and never found anything. Underground! I should have guessed.” Peter hopped around as he got his legs into his pants and boots. He was pulling on his gloves, mask tucked under his chin as he returned to Tony. “I need you do me a favor.”

“A favor? Now? Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony's hands were in the air and Peter worried for a second that he was going to blow up the ceiling. His upstairs neighbors would really not appreciate that.

Peter gave him a steady look, mask in his hands. “I'm serious. And now. I need you to get Wade.”

“Deadpool. You're fucking—you're serious?” Tony's face was scrunched in disbelief.

“Yes. Look, he knows the docks really well, and he was the one who got tipped off in the first place even though we never found it.”

“I thought you two had broken up or whatever. You haven't been on the streets in over two months!”

Peter nearly stamped his foot but he settled for frowning deeply and saying in his most deadly voice, “This is not the time to discuss that. I'm sure you have eyes on him all the time so you know where he lives. Go tell him I need his help. Tell him I need him.”

“Why don't you just tell him yourself?” Tony argued.

“Because I can't! I'm going to the goddamn docks to try and figure out this fricken bomb business and you need to get his ass and yours over there as fast as you can. Just do this for me, Tony. Please.”

After a long moment, Tony nodded stiffly. “Fine. Go meet up with Cap, he'll fill you in.”

Peter pulled his mask on. “Don't break the door on your way out,” he muttered before leaping out a window and swinging his way towards the docks. He wouldn't hold his breath for Wade to agree, but he hoped. Wade had promised that if Peter needed him, he'd only have to ask.

“I need you now,” Peter whispered, his words melting into the wind where no one could hear him, not even himself. It was enough.

 

. . .

 

The docks were abuzz with movement and Peter saw where the Avengers had made a little camp, tucked behind a couple of warehouses. He touched down next to Natasha, who barely looked at him, and was greeted by only Wanda and Sam.

“Steve,” Peter started, heading right to the man in charge. “What's the situation?”

“There are about two hundred of them, all armed and they seem pretty well trained. We're thinking Hydra, but we can't confirm that. They're localized around a central warehouse where we think the bomb is being extracted. Tony said you knew about it,” Steve said, pointing an accusing look at him.

Peter crossed his arms. “I heard a rumor but when I investigated, nothing came up.”

“You should have let us know.”

“I didn't think it was important, it was months ago. What do you want me to say? Sorry, Cap, won't happen again.”

“Listen, stop being a brat and start pulling your weight again,” Natasha said from somewhere behind him.

Peter shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “Not that I appreciate you telling me what to do, but Tony wasn't really specific on what you need my help with.”

“A trap.” Bucky speaking up surprised Peter and he turned to the metal armed man. He had a crude drawing of the area laid out on the ground in front of him.

“Wow, draw that yourself, Barnes?” Peter asked, crouching to look at it. He didn't miss the half-smile that Bucky turned to him.

“Here.” A metal finger pointed to the north side of the warehouse. “We want you to spin a web, an actual web, here and on the west side. There are doors on every side of the building, but if we storm the south and east, we're hoping to push them into the trap. If you can get a peek inside, that would be helpful. We've got no idea what we'll be seeing once we're in.”

Peter nodded and caught a small object that Natasha threw at his head. He recognized it as an earpiece and carefully put it on under his mask. “Easy. Have you got eyes on the north side?”

“Sam's been flying above, out of sight, but that's about it. Vision is too easy to spot,” Steve told him.

Peter looked at Bucky. “If I can make a suggestion, you should get in position by the docks, keep a scope on my side. I don't want anyone sneaking up on me and ruining the plan.”

Bucky nodded. “Good idea. Sam, keep your eyes on the east and the rest of you on the south.” He already had a rifle slung across his back and there were nods all around.

“I'll swing around the long way and drop you out of sight,” Peter suggested. He held out his hand and Bucky gripped his forearm tightly. Shooting a web up, Peter lifted them off the ground and away, managing with just one arm to make a wide arc around the men and towards some shipping containers.

He set Barnes on top and went back to the warehouse, silently landing on the edge of the roof. There were three guards up top, but none of them had seen him so he let them be. Crawling around the walls, Peter took stock of the area and counted just a few men patrolling the north side in shifts, though they were far from the doors and the cover of night allowed Peter to blend with the shadows, the dim lamps around the area only giving light to the ground. No one looked up.

Peter got to work. He quickly set up a web by the north side doors, one at the very corner of the building to trip up any runners, and he was just starting to form the last one when his comm crackled.

“Your left,” Bucky's voice said quietly and Peter leaped into hiding, eyes moving down to see a guard walking right up to the doors.

The web was only partially formed and the strings barely glinted in the pale light but it must have been enough to attract the attention of one unlucky goon. Peter aimed a web that caught the guy around the mouth and another which pulled him into the air and towards Peter. He knocked the guy out with a punch to the head and strung him high in the shadows.

He got back to it, spinning as quickly and effectively as he could.

“Pete?”

Peter stopped for just a second as Wade's voice in his ear surprised him. “Glad you joined the party,” he said slowly.

“The Iron Princess wasn't very convincing, but the bomb sounded interesting.”

“We can all hear you,” Tony's voice said irritably.

Wade just giggled. “I know.”

“Thanks for coming,” Peter told him genuinely. “Cap, I'm all finished here. You might want to move quick. I haven't been able to see inside, so we're still flying blind.”

“Take out the three on the roof,” Bucky told him. “I'll stay in position for stragglers on this end.”

“Sounds good. Team one, east side. Team two, with me,” Steve ordered.

Peter heard shuffling across the comm link and he crawled his way up to the roof. The three up there were still milling about and Peter easily caught two with webs, pulling them towards each other to knock them out. He webbed their hands to the ground and turned to the third only to find him already incapacitated.

“Funny seeing you here, baby boy.”

Wade's voice, out loud, made Peter's back stiffen. He stepped over the fallen body and towards him. His swords were in his hands but Peter could tell the guy he'd taken down was still breathing, just unconscious.

“I could say the same,” Peter whispered.

The merc laughed but it sounded off. Too quiet. “You said you needed me. Here I am.”

Shouting started up below them and Peter went to the edge of the roof to see people trying to leave the building and getting trapped by his webs. He turned back to Wade only to see the door to the roof crash open and a dozen or so men come stumbling towards them, hands on their guns.

“Talk later, fight now,” Peter told Wade, standing beside him.

Wade's grin was visible through his mask.

Then they were back to back, taking down baddies left and right as more and more filed up. It seemed that instead of going out, they were escaping up, only to find two red suited figures waiting for them.

Peter hadn't seen action in so long that he was realizing he'd really missed the thrill of it. And fighting next to Wade again made it feel like no time had passed at all. They still worked amazingly well as a team, anticipating the other's moves before they were made and moving almost in tandem.

Peter was panting with exertion as he webbed the last goon's knees together and shoved him into the ground with a foot on his back. The shouting had quieted and Peter asked into the comm, “How's it going inside?”

“We've secured the bomb,” Tony said. “Now we're just weeding out the last of the agents. How's the outside?”

“Roof is secure,” Peter told him.

“The webs worked,” Bucky said. “I'm on my way inside now, everything out here is taken care of.”

Peter looked at Wade whose katanas were dripping with blood. He'd fought hard, laughing as he hacked through bodies, but the majority of the injuries he had inflicted were not life threatening.

“Did the crazy guy kill anyone?” Tony's question made Peter grit his teeth.

But before he could answer, Wade was saying cheerily, “Nope! No deaths here. Can't make any promises about your own life if you call me crazy again, though.”

Peter snorted. To Stark he said, “It's all good. Nobody's dying tonight.”

“Good to hear,” Steve muttered. “Clean up crews are on their way, police and all.”

“Oh, bad news,” Wade hissed. He looked at Peter. “Time for me to fly, Petey-pie.”

“Wait.” Peter reached out one hand, stepping towards him, but Wade was already heading towards the edge of the building, looking like he was going to climb down on his own.

Neither of them expected the barrage of bullets that suddenly sprayed towards Wade. One hit him in the chest, another in his shoulder, there were three in one leg, and one managed to find his throat, tearing through it and making the merc let out a choked gasp before he was falling backwards, off the roof.

“No!” Peter shouted, lunging. He shot a web at the guy who had fired where he was sitting up and must not have been knocked properly out. His other hand was busy sending a web off the edge of the building to try and catch Wade as he fell towards the ground.

 _Gwen_.

Peter's eyes saw red and then they saw billowing blonde hair and a perfect smile. He was screaming but he didn't realize it until his web failed to reach Wade in time and there was a sickening _thud_ as his body hit the ground.

Peter jumped.

It wasn't a long fall, maybe five stories, but that was plenty enough to kill someone. He landed heavily, ankles jarred but not injured, and he fell to his knees beside Wade's broken and bleeding body.

A pool of red, almost black in the night, was spreading from underneath him. Peter's hands were covered in blood and he pressed them to Wade's body, knowing it was useless.

He was dead.

Peter lowered his forehead to rest against Wade's chest. He pulled off his mask, getting blood in his hair and not caring about it. A voice was shouting his name but he tugged the comm from his ear and dropped it.

He didn't know he was crying until a hand that was not his own touched his cheek and wiped wetness from under his eye.

Lifting his head, Peter was shocked to find it was Wade's fingers touching him so gingerly. A wet cough came from behind Wade's mask and Peter quickly tugged it off, revealing a scarred and bloodied face. But he was smiling.

Peter choked on a laugh and felt so stupid. “You can't die,” he whispered. He was still crying, tears falling from his chin and onto Wade's blood soaked suit.

“I can't die,” Wade confirmed, his voice just a hoarse breath.

Laughing almost hysterically, Peter wrapped his hands around Wade's head and kissed him right on the mouth. He tasted like blood and Peter could barely breathe but Wade's fingers were in his hair and he was kissing him back and Peter didn't even care that he was covered in Wade's blood.

He'd never had a more perfect kiss.

The sound of someone clearing their throat got Peter to realize where they were and he looked up to see Tony hovering nearby along with Sam and Wanda who, surprisingly, was smiling widely at Peter.

“Hate to interrupt,” Tony said, landing with a clank, “but we'd all like to get home and get some sleep now that this mess is taken care of.”

Peter nodded and helped Wade to a sitting position. “You're sure the bomb is safe?” Peter asked.

“It's on its way to a secure facility right now to be dismantled. You two need any help?”

Wade groaned and rubbed his throat, which Peter could see was already healing. “I think we can handle it,” the younger man said.

Tony nodded and flew off. Sam followed suit but Wanda moved towards them and patted Peter's head with one hand.

“I always knew you were cute under that mask,” she said.

Peter laughed, feeling lighter than he had in months. Beside him, Wade chuckled and told her, “Ain't that the truth. Hands off, though, sweetheart.”

Wanda just looked amused and ran off to join up with Vision, who was touching down nearby and beckoning to her. “I hope you'll start answering your calls, Spider-Man,” she called to them as Vision picked her up and started floating away. “The team is better with you around.”

Peter shook his head and felt Wade wrap an arm around his waist. His eyes turned back to the merc. “Can you stand?”

“Probably.” Wade grunted as they worked together to get him to his feet. “You weren't answering the A-team?” he asked, almost gasping the words.

“I wasn't answering anybody,” Peter replied. He frowned. “Come on, I'll take you home.” Before Wade could protest, Peter gathered up both of their masks and urged Wade onto his back. The merc's grip was a lot more loose than in the past when they had traveled this way, but Peter just kept making sure Wade wasn't going to let go as they swung through the city.

The sun was starting to rise, the sky a milky gray, and Wade sighed into Peter's ear. “I'm sorry,” he said softly.

Peter didn't answer until they were on the rooftop of his apartment building. “I know.”

They took the stairs to Peter's floor and once inside, Peter all but dropped Wade to the floorboards.

“This isn't comfy,” Wade whined.

“I don't want your blood all over my couch. How are you healing up?” Peter was moving towards his bedroom, already stripping out of his suit and tossing the pieces to the floor as he went. There would be a lot of blood to clean up.

“I'll be peachy keen in a couple of hours, don't you worry your pretty little head,” Wade called to him.

Peter returned wearing sweatpants and carefully helped Wade out of his suit, ignoring the merc's complaints with glaring eyes. Once Wade was down to his underpants, Peter gathered a cloth and a bowl of warm water to help clean at least some of the blood from Wade's bullet holes. They were actually healing well and were almost good by the time Peter was done.

Wade didn't speak for the whole ordeal, but when Peter finally went to clean at the wound on his throat, he caught Peter's wrist. “You're really not grossed out by my skin, are you?” He asked it with some surprise, his eyes looking at Peter from under drawn brows. Or at least skin where his brows would be.

“No.” Peter shook his head. “You're not gross. I've tried to tell you that before.”

He let go so Peter could continue, but eventually there was nothing left to clean and Peter was left just sitting with a stained cloth in his hands and a bowl of cool, pink water. Peter's lips were drawn tight, his eyes down to avoid Wade's gaze.

“I should have—” Peter broke off, biting his lip. “I shouldn't have waited so long. I was just so scared to see you again.”

When Wade didn't answer at first, Peter glanced at his face and saw the merc staring at the ceiling with unreadable eyes.

Finally, Wade asked, “Are you scared of me now?”

“I've never been scared _of_ you,” Peter told him, very quietly. “I was afraid of what you'd say to me if I saw you again. I didn't want you to . . .” He let out a sigh, chest deflating. “I didn't know what say to you, either.”

Wade's fingers were suddenly on his cheek and then cupping the back of his head as he pulled Peter down to kiss him. Peter braced his hands against Wade's chest and while the texture of his skin was so different than anything he'd ever felt, it wasn't a bad different. He was sure he still had dried blood in his hair and on his face but Wade didn't taste like copper anymore. He tasted human.

Peter let Wade push him over, his back into the floor. He let Wade touch his face, his neck, his bare chest. He let Wade kiss him until he was breathless and his head felt dizzy with conflicting emotions.

He pushed at Wade's chest when his lungs were burning and spent a moment just looking into Wade's eyes, gaze flicking between each brown iris, trying to read what they were telling him.

“I'm sorry I'm a fucking idiot,” Wade told him.

Peter smiled, his eyes almost tearing up. “I'm an idiot, too.”

Wade dipped his head to steal a kiss, so gentle and sweet. “No, you're covered in my blood. I might think that's a little hot except I realize it's because you literally held onto my dead body so I kinda think you should just shower.”

At that, Peter laughed. He shoved at Wade so he could sit up. “A shower sounds great, honestly.” Peter blushed and looked steadfastly away even though his hands were still touching Wade's skin. “You can . . . you can join me, if you want.”

Wade smooched his cheek loudly, making Peter bark a laugh again. “I'd love to, baby boy.”

Peter stood, taking Wade's hands, and led him towards the bathroom, stepping over their discarded spandex along the way. Wade's face was so serious when Peter started the water and turned back to him. Scarred hands rested on Peter's hips and lips kissed him with thinly veiled control.

They didn't say anything, but Peter allowed Wade to push his sweats down and he stepped out of them, naked. He drew the curtain back from the shower to get under the spray and Wade joined him just seconds later. Warm water cascaded down Peter's back and he wrapped his arms around Wade's neck to kiss him, nipping on his bottom lip.

Wade's groan was loud in the miniscule space between them. His touch traveled down Peter's chest and his ribs, his hips and thighs, before moving around to cup his ass and pull their bodies tightly together.

“Wade,” Peter moaned, moving his mouth to plant kisses along Wade's jaw. “We—we should wait,” he mumbled.

Slowly, Wade let go of him, nodding. “Whatever you say.” He moved back, picked up a bottle of shampoo and urged Peter to turn around so he could massage it into Peter's scalp. They had to work together and Peter ended up laughing and getting shampoo in his mouth, but eventually they managed to rinse it out.

Wade didn't even let Peter wash his own body, grabbing the shower gel from his hands to spread into Peter's skin himself. His chest was pressed to Peter's back and Peter reached a hand over his shoulder to touch the back of Wade's head when the merc rubbed his soapy fingers around Peter's nipples and then down to his abdomen.

Peter was unashamed to realize he was hard as a fucking rock, the feel of Wade's hands all over him making him shiver with need.

He turned his head to where Wade's chin was hooked over his shoulder and coaxed the man into kissing him again, wanting it despite the difficult angle. He didn't protest when one of Wade's hands closed around his aching cock. Instead, he wrapped his own fingers around Wade's and helped guide him into doing what Peter liked.

Wade hummed into his ear, kissing the side of his neck and biting down when Peter's head tilted to allow him more space. He buried his nose in Peter's dripping hair, the hand not jerking Peter off moving across his chest, touching as much of the hero's skin as was available to him.

Peter's nails dug into one of Wade's thighs and it got the merc to jerk his hips, rutting his hard length into the small of Peter's back. Peter's lips parted with an echoing moan and he shuddered as Wade's thumb dug into the slit at the tip of his cock. They were moving slow even though Peter felt heat thrumming through him and his heart was hammering at a pace faster than was strictly healthy.

“I gotta—Wade,” Peter breathed. He bit his lip to stifle a groan. Wade's teeth found the sensitive skin of his neck again and made Peter's jaw drop open. A throaty sound came out of him and Peter might have been embarrassed except Wade was whispering into his ear.

“Come on, Petey, come all over our hands. Look at yourself, you're so needy for it, baby. I want you to let go and don't hold anything back. Let me hear the sounds you're making for me, for my hand wrapped around your pretty cock. Wanna feel you come.” Wade's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper and his hips pushed against Peter's ass. “I'm right here, baby boy, I'm right here with you.”

Peter shuddered as he came, hips jerking, ears filled with Wade's low tone. He could feel Wade all around him, hands all over him, lips on the back of his neck even as he whispered soft endearments.

“Wade,” Peter sighed. “Wish you were inside me. Wanna feel your fingers in me.” His head tilted back until it rested against Wade's shoulder and Wade's lips were pressed to his throat. “Fuck,” he panted, shivering when Wade finally let go of his softening dick. “Come on, Wade. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Both of Wade's hands wrapped around Peter's hips, pulling him to meet each rut of Wade's body. The older man's breathing was ragged and Peter pushed his fingers into both of Wade's thighs, urging him on.

“Wade. Wade,” Peter babbled. “I love you, Wade. Come on, I love you.”

With a grunt, Wade came onto Peter's back, his hips stuttering until he lost all rhythm and just leaned heavily into Peter's body, gasping for breath.

Quietly, they let water run over their bodies for another minute, Peter making sure they were both actually clean. He shut the water off and Wade still hadn't quite recovered. So Peter wrapped himself in a towel and handed an extra one to Wade, who accepted it with a grateful half-smile.

When they were dry, Peter took Wade's hands and they fell into his bed together. Sunlight was already peeking into Peter's room and he could see each dip and mark along Wade's face. They were curled up together, Wade's arms around Peter's body, and Peter touched the merc's cheek before kissing him, slowly and hungrily though the drone of desire in his body had lessened into a murmur.

“Did you mean it?” Wade whispered when Peter left his lips in favor of tucking his head under Wade's chin.

“Yeah.”

Wade's chuckle was soft in Peter's ear but his lips were even softer as they kissed Peter's forehead. “I love you too, baby boy.”

Peter fell asleep with a heartbeat in his ears and sunlight dappling the walls.


	5. Bonus: I will hear your heart beating

Peter woke to the sound of his phone buzzing insistently and the slow press of something hard into his backside. An arm was around his waist, fingers threaded through his own. Peter groaned and untangled himself to reach around blindly on the floor until he found his phone.

“Yeah?” he whispered, voice low with disuse.

“Peter, honey, I've been trying to call you all day!” May's voice was worried in his ear.

“What time s'it?” Peter tried to blink his eyes open but the sunlight in the room was too bright so he gave up and smushed his face into the pillow. A mouth was leaving wet kisses along the back of his neck and he shivered.

“It's almost four in the afternoon.”

“I've been sleeping,” Peter mumbled. “Long night.”

“Are you still coming to New Year's Eve dinner?”

“Course, Aunt May. Wouldn't miss it.” Peter smiled as the hand around his waist slowly stroked his side and his hip.

“Be here at six then! Have you talked to that boy yet?”

Peter groaned, a combination of resignation and arousal when Wade's hand gripped his thigh. “Yeah. I did. Last night actually.”

“Do you want to invite him for dinner?”

Lips pressed the nape of Peter's neck before a tongue flicked out and made a warm line across his skin. Peter had to press his lips into a tight line to keep from making an embarrassing sound. He smacked at Wade's hand and whispered, “Stop it!” To May he said, “I don't know . . . he's here right now.”

That got Wade to pause. For all of three seconds before he was biting down at Peter's shoulder and rolling his hips.

“Well, why don't you ask him! I'd love to have him over, Peter.”

Peter let out a strangled whine. “Fine.” He turned his head up, lifting the phone from his ear to tell Wade, “My Aunt May invited you to dinner with us. She wants you to come over.”

Wade's head lifted and he planted a kiss to the corner of Peter's mouth. “I'd love to,” he whispered huskily.

Peter's head swam and he had to swallow thickly. He brought the phone back to his ear and said to May, “He says he'll come.”

“I'll do more than that, baby boy,” Wade whispered, just barely loud enough for Peter to hear.

“Um, okay, we'll see you tonight, Aunt May! Bye, I love you!” Peter hung up before he made any more of an embarrassment out of himself and dropped the phone to the floor. He turned to get his hands around Wade's head and pull him in for a deep, slow kiss. “We've got two hours to be there,” Peter told him when they paused for breath.

“I won't even need one,” Wade muttered.

Peter caught a glimpse of a wicked smile before his face was being pushed into the bed and Wade was over him, hands touching all the gorgeous skin of his shoulders and his back. Kisses were pressed into his flesh after hands and Wade made his way down until he was sitting on Peter's legs, fingers toying with the cleft of Peter's ass.

“Please tell me you have lube.” Wade's voice sounded wrecked already and Peter squirmed underneath him.

He pointed to the top drawer of his desk. “There.”

Wade got up to check and returned with the bottle Peter kept stashed there, barely used. His hands returned to Peter's skin and thumbs kneaded the base of his spine until he relaxed bonelessly into the bed.

“I hope you were serious when you said you wanted me inside you,” Wade mumbled, his lips trailing across the knobs of Peter's spinal column. “You're not coming unless it's on my cock, got it?”

Peter whined and it was muffled by the pillow. His hands were clenched in the sheets and he rocked his hips back unconsciously. He heard the bottle being uncapped and it wasn't long before slick fingers were probing at his hole. As one finally pushed inside, Peter made a broken noise and canted his hips again.

Wade stroked his back soothingly with his free hand and said, “Just relax, baby boy. It'll start to feel good soon.”

“Already feels good,” Peter whispered. He choked on a gasp when Wade added another finger and it hurt just a little before it started feeling nice again.

“Gonna fuck you proper, Petey.” Wade spread his fingers as he pushed and pulled them and Peter moaned. “Gonna make you come so fucking hard.”

“Stop talking, start doing.” The words might have sounded more commanding if Peter hadn't whimpered halfway through and ground his face into his pillow. He pushed himself onto his forearms and forced Wade to move back so he could get to his knees. Wade's fingers never left his ass.

He added a third when Peter had settled again and from this position Peter could meet his hand, fucking back onto it to get him deeper, harder. Peter's head hung and he panted into the sheets, his dick leaking between his spread thighs.

“Ready?” Wade asked, and Peter knew just from his voice that the older man was so beyond ready but was waiting for Peter.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the hungry expression on Wade's face. “Fuck me already,” he whispered, a flush high in his cheeks.

“You got it, baby.” Wade's hands wrapped around Peter's hips and he moved quickly so the head of his cock was pressed right against Peter's slick and glistening hole. He went in slow, breaching him with shallow thrusts, each push in letting Peter take more and more.

Peter held his breath, shuddered, and let it out. He felt so _full_ and when Wade was finally sheathed inside him as far as he could go, the feeling had doubled. Shaking, Peter was grateful that Wade didn't move for a long minute, letting Peter's muscles relax almost completely before he pulled out leisurely and slipped back inside fast.

The motion tore a moan from Peter's throat and he pushed back against Wade. He let the merc carry the rhythm of their bodies but he gave it his all, trying to coax Wade to slam into him harder and let his fingers dig bruises to Peter's hips.

“Fuck, Pete, baby, I'm not gonna last,” Wade grunted.

Peter nodded even though he knew Wade couldn't exactly see it. “Want you to come in me,” he muttered, ending the request with a punctuated whine. “I wanna feel it.”

“I'm so fucking close.” Wade's hips lost their steady pace and he moved irregularly, pushing against Peter's body. He came within seconds, stilling and jerking, twitching as he spilled inside of Peter.

He was breathing heavily when he slipped out and Peter whimpered, his cock angry and ready to come but just not quite there yet.

“I—I need . . .” Peter sobbed. “Wade, please.”

Two fingers were immediately pushed back into his hole and Peter all but wailed when they pushed around and found his prostate, rubbing at it gently. Peter came as Wade pressed a kiss to one cheek and fucked him with his fingers. He whined very quietly as he collapsed to the bed, not even caring that he was getting covered in his own come.

Peter felt sated and oversensitive and he hummed, reaching a hand out to touch Wade and guide him so they lay next to each other.

“Sorry I couldn't—” Wade started, but Peter shushed him.

“Don't talk. It was fucking great.”

Wade chuckled and he slipped his arms around Peter to pull him in close, kissing the hero's temple. “We'll have to shower again before dinner,” he whispered.

Peter shoved his face into Wade's chest and made a noise of complaint. “I wanna sleep,” he grumbled.

“I'll make it worth your while, promise,” Wade told him cheekily. “Repeat of this morning? Fuck, baby boy, just thinking about it gets me hard.”

“You're incorrigible.”

“I'm a sex machine, Petey-pie. A clinically insane sex machine.”

Peter shut him up with a kiss. “I'll take a blow job in the shower and we'll call it good.”

Wade groaned quietly. “It's a deal.”

 

. . .

 

Wade wore civvies to May's house as a testament to Peter's faith. She didn't say a word about his scars, but she smiled when Peter said they'd made up and didn't even bat an eye when Wade kissed him right in front of her at the stroke of midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Titles lovingly taken from When the Morning Comes - A Great Big World.


End file.
